


the end of summer

by miserynovel



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:54:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21953977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miserynovel/pseuds/miserynovel
Summary: But it’s snowing, and they aren’t burnish.
Relationships: Gueira/Meis (Promare)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	the end of summer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elysiontower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elysiontower/gifts).



It doesn’t feel real. That they spent so long on the run. That they aren’t on the run anymore. Years of burnish life faded into one years-long summer, endless and difficult, yes, but there was something exhilarating about it all the same. There was a love that blossomed amidst the revs of motorcycles and through soft glances across a fire at night. It was winter sometimes, yes, but they were never cold. They couldn’t be. They were burnish. 

Their first winter comes unexpectedly. The departure of the promare has left the Earth’s climate in shambles as it struggles to adjust to the newly fallen temperatures, and Promepolis experiences a sharp drop towards the end of August. It snows in September. Meis wishes it hadn’t, because the autumn leaves used to remind him of Gueira’s hair, with their complex and varied shades of red. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Not like there are many trees in the city that aren’t in greenhouses. 

But it’s snowing, and they aren’t burnish. Lio takes it the hardest of the former Mad Burnish. As far as anyone can tell, he was sickly before his mutation, and now it’s all catching up with him. He spends the cold months locked up in the apartment he shares with his lieutenants, for the most part. But Meis and Gueira power through the cold, when they need to. 

Gueira isn’t used to it. Florida was far from a cold climate. Meis isn’t used to it either, but he handles it a little better than Gueira does. The two will put on their winter clothing - two layers at least, if not three - and leave the apartment together, and Meis won’t be able to wrench his eyes away from the way their footsteps look next to each other in the snow. He thinks it feels more important than it is. They’ll be swept away tomorrow, but right now they mean something else to him. They walked here, side by side, and the relief of that is measured in snow that doesn’t melt when they come near. 

The summer really is over. 

They used to look at each other as they gained speed. Sometimes, outside of the city, where they could be recognized, they would ride without their armors, and as they sped over the desert they would meet eyes. Meis’s hair would flow out like a sheet. Gueira would look a little red, but it could be dismissed - of course he was red, he’s Gueira, and the midsummer sun shone brightly on his face and in his eyes. Their smiles were so wide and free that it was easy to forget who they were and why they were here. There was no triumph, but there was the thrill of one, carried through adrenaline-filled days to the quiet nights, where their hands nearly touched. It felt seamless, one continual meeting of eyes across a hallway. For years, they were falling in love at first sight. 

And now, they were walking to the convenience store to buy some mundane things that neither of them cared about but both of them knew they needed. Meis walked two steps behind Gueira and to his left, just like in the old times. It felt right to him. It felt like his hand could slip right into Gueira’s and never leave. It wouldn’t, but it could. Not that he could feel him through the gloves. 

The cafe, small and owned by a former-burnish they both knew well, beckoned to them on their way home. The amount of former-burnish still working closely with fire was slightly alarming to Meis. Without their previous immunity, it was easier than it should be to harm oneself or one’s surroundings. But he can’t pretend he doesn’t understand it. The flame is still part of them. It’s still part of him. It’s still part of Gueira, too. 

When their promare left it had been in unison. It felt, sometimes, like they were still there, burning within their hearts in perfect sync. 

They get their drinks and sit at a table by the window, watching the snow fall outside. It feels like the most concrete symbol they could possibly hope for. Their summer of love-at-first-sight is over. The exhilarated glances and the almost-touches are gone with it. The promare are no longer here to burn together. 

They link hands across the table. Things are calmer now, slower. Life is real. Past the moments of first love is a lifetime of tenderness, one which they finally get to experience. And it’s their hearts which burn, now, in their first winter. Suddenly, neither of them feel cold.


End file.
